


Going Home (and I just can't make it all alone)

by doomcake



Series: rock you like a hurricane (30_ballads) [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Insecurity, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-29
Updated: 2008-09-29
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomcake/pseuds/doomcake
Summary: This is supposed to be something of a vacation, but Gokudera knows how Reborn's mind works; there's always a catch.





	Going Home (and I just can't make it all alone)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Welcome Home ♪ Metallica ([](http://30-ballads.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://30-ballads.livejournal.com/) **30_ballads** )  
>   
> Fic title comes from Celldweller's song "Tragedy".  
>   
> Beware of copious amounts of swearing... haha.

There is an uneasiness that settles in the pit of Gokudera's stomach as their plane lands in Rome. He hasn't been here in a long while, and the only reason he has agreed to come is because the Tenth is going – and he sure as hell isn't going to let Tsuna travel to fucking Italy with just the baseball freak to keep an eye on him. This is supposed to be something of a vacation, but Gokudera knows how Reborn's mind works; there's always a catch.

And the moment Reborn says, “Oh, by the way, Tsuna – Dino Cavallone is in town,” Gokudera knows exactly what that catch is.

Dino hasn't exactly been acting like himself of late, according to rumors that have been floating around on the mafia channels. He's done a few things that even has Reborn frowning – or, as close to frowning as the baby can get – and it's causing unease among the Cavallones' allies. The Vongola are no exception, and Reborn is likely thinking of how Dino's strange behavior of late could impact their own family just by association.

Tsuna's eyes go wide and then narrow in sudden understanding after Reborn's revelation. There isn't anyone better to settle the matter than the Vongola's own Tenth boss.

... It doesn't settle well with Gokudera. They all know what Byakuran is capable of, even though they still haven't met him in this timeline. Perhaps they're about to, if Byakuran has found his way through Cavallone defenses at this point in time. It's the first thing that comes to Gokudera's mind in this situation – has Byakuran's reach already made it to Dino? Gokudera can't let the same happen to Tsuna. They already saw the future in which Uni's defenses were (might still be) flattened by whatever technique Byakuran can use. This isn't going to be the Tenth's job.

It's going to be the right hand man's job.

“I'll go,” Gokudera says, before Tsuna can say anything, and putting a hand up in Yamamoto's direction even before he can open his mouth to protest – which he _will_. “Let me go in and see what the situation is first.”

Tsuna gets a look on his face that Gokudera knows all too well – the one that says, _Like hell I'm going to let you_ – says something about insulting a close friend and ally of his, but Gokudera's already opening his mouth to counter his boss.

“Tenth, this doesn't feel right. _Please_ ,” he says, matching Tsuna's serious gaze with a resolute one of his own, “let me do this.”

Much to Gokudera's surprise, Reborn's head is bobbing ever so slightly in an agreeing nod. Straightening his spine, he stands to his full height and musters as much steel into his eyes as he can as he looks down at Tsuna. It's not an attempt to bully – it's _not_ , goddamn it – but Tsuna's old habit of pulling back returns and sends a stab of uncomfortable guilt into Gokudera's stomach. But... but he's resolved now; there's no turning back.

Tsuna ultimately bends, but only after Reborn vocalizes his support, and by the way he's sullenly silent for the rest of the night, he still doesn't like the idea.

And so Gokudera finds himself the next morning at the outer gates of the nearby Cavallone property, one of Dino's estates – and he's alone, (mostly) unarmed – because any unarmed mafia _would_ be caught dead. There are butterflies in his stomach; there is something incredibly unsettling about the atmosphere here, and he's wishing now that he had Tsuna's insight, and the thought makes him want to kick himself repeatedly for cowardice. Because that's not why he's here – he's not here to make a damned fool of himself in the name of his boss.

It's not like Gokudera knows many of Dino's men by name or by face, but something about the men leading him towards the back of the complex tells Gokudera that they're new. Or, perhaps, simply stationed here in Italy most of the year – not part of the core group that Dino still relies on when he goes abroad. They're leading him towards a large, old warehouse sitting in the far corner of the estate, and it looks sorely out of place, like a sore thumb. Gokudera shivers and doesn't feel right, but he refuses to insult the Cavallone – cause Vongola, especially Tsuna, to lose face – just on sheer instinct.

The warehouse is cold, dank, and smells of old socks. Gokudera looks around at the cobweb-coated ceilings and mildly observes that even the windows aren't letting in much light off the river. He's a little surprised that any property of Dino's could be left in such a dilapidated state. There's an approaching clack of dress shoes on concrete and a clearing of throats, and Gokudera shifts his gaze forward to greet the Cavallone entourage accompanying Dino.

One thing has never changed about Dino; he always keeps a group of his most loyal men close by, and draws strength from them. That thought is almost a comfort, and it lasts only until Gokudera's eyes level with Dino's, and– he freezes.

They're _blank._

And now Gokudera knows exactly what's wrong, because he's seen it before – but he's caught off guard, because it's only been six years and there shouldn't be this kind of an issue for another two, at the very least–

_Goddamn it, this was a fucking bad idea._

Dino's smile sends a shiver down Gokudera's spine. “Gokudera-san,” Dino greets in polite Japanese, his bow almost too formal. “What do we owe the pleasure?”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose before replying – _can't panic, cannot fucking panic_ – Gokudera forces a returned smile and says in Italian, “I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by.”

“Just you, then?” Dino seems almost disappointed – _stop panicking_ – and looks behind Gokudera briefly as if confirming the fact that the Vongola Tenth's right hand man is indeed alone. “I apologize I didn't have any tea prepared; I wasn't expecting guests.”

_Like hell you weren't._

– It takes a split second too long for Gokudera to hear the shuffle of feet behind him, and they catch him just as he's turning to defend himself when the lights go out. He lashes out behind him and catches a soft lump of flesh with his elbow, a soft exclamation of surprised breathlessness giving him the briefest of satisfactions before two other sets of hands grab his arms and knock him onto his face into the warehouse floor. There's a sharp knee pressing into the small of his back and he can't move.

“Son of a _bitch_.” The last word sends dust flying from Gokudera's lips, pressed into the dirty cement. And it's not just directed at the Cavallone.

“It's a shame you couldn't bring your boss with you; it would have made things so much easier,” is all he hears Dino say before bright lights flash in his vision, and then all is even blacker than the dark of the dank warehouse.

It only feels like a split second, but the next snatch of awareness Gokudera has is of an actual bright light shining in his eyes. Startled, he jerks away from the sharp intrusion on his dilated pupils only to find his hands bound tightly behind his back, and his ankles lashed firmly to the legs of the cold metal chair he's sitting in.

All he can think is, _Fuckfuckfuck_ , because the worst of his fears isn't supposed to be happening, especially not in a country he already associates with a lot of unpleasantness.

“Ah, you're finally awake, Gokudera.”

The voice is cold, flat, and far too unfamiliar, and even though it's Dino's body, Gokudera glowers at the impostor hiding behind the too-bright lamp shining in his eyes.

“You're not him,” he accuses. “What did you do with Dino?”

When Dino laughs, Gokudera _understands_ what it means to fear – and this isn't a healthy respect this time, either. He's fucking terrified.

“And here I was thinking Sawada was the only one capable of insight out of you Vongola,” Dino says – and Gokudera may not be able to see the smile, but he sure as hell can hear it.

Squirming in the bonds, he sends a glare at the light – quickly turns into a squint – and says, “Doesn't take much insight. You're a godawful actor, whoever you are.”

The silhouette shifts, and there's a soft laugh. “Regardless, it worked well enough,” Dino's voice says with amusement. “Almost as well as I'd have hoped.”

Dino moves forward, broad shoulders blocking the light, and before Gokudera's eyes can adjust, there are ice cold fingers gripping his chin and forcing him to look at a face obscured in shadow. Everything feels wrong, _so fucking wrong_ , and Gokudera tries – unsuccessfully – to jerk his head out of the grip.

“Fuck you,” Gokudera snarls, and spits into the face leering down at him.

The fingers release his chin and he feels an equally cold palm patting his cheek. “Good, there's some fight in you. This should make my job more interesting.”

Those words create a pit of ice in Gokudera's stomach, but he's determined not to let it show on his face – if it's for the Tenth's safety, he will endure. He has to. But he just doesn't know what to expect from not-Dino, because he knows full well this isn't anything like dealing with Mukuro. As much as Gokudera can't quite bring himself to trust their own Mist Guardian, there's not a chance that Mukuro could possibly be the one behind Dino's dark stare.

Gokudera's earlier fears bubble up through his chest again, and his jaw tenses painfully because he knows that he can't do anything about it in his current state. Something he can't quite pin – a feeling, a hunch, perhaps some of the Tenth's intuition that somehow rubbed off on him – tells him that he should be afraid. That he's right, and _goddamn_ if he doesn't want to be.

Because if he's right, Byakuran is ahead of the previous timeline. _Way_ ahead. And that's a major problem, because if Byakuran is already on the move–

He tries hard not to swallow the bile rising in the back of his throat. Tries hard not to let his fears show, but he knows he isn't doing so well because his hands are shaking despite the fact that they're tied behind his back with thick, rough rope. All he can think is, _The Tenth is in danger, have to get back–_

Hands covered in leather gloves creak in front of him, the light catching on the brass knuckle like it's some kind of God-given artifact. The smile is still on not-Dino's face, but it's turned into something even more sinister, and it's _wrong, completely wrong_ on Dino's usually friendly face. Gokudera's stomach turns, even at the inevitable.

“You're going to tell me where your Boss is,” says not-Dino, “and then you're going to tell me how I might arrange an appointment with him.”

Gokudera purses his lips stubbornly, relieved that they aren't quivering. _Hit me_ , he thinks, because he isn't going to say a goddamned word. _I fucking dare you–_

White lights and stars take over his vision, and his ears won't stop ringing as he feels like there's something still pressing against his cheek. It hurts just as much as he anticipated, but not more, and with the first blow out of the way, this isn't going to be as hard as he feared, he thinks. Licking his swelling lip, he glares up at a face that he should have been able to trust.

“I just want to have a talk with your Boss.” The leather creaks around the flexing hand again. “Is that too much to ask, from the high and mighty Vongola?”

“It is for you,” Gokudera snaps, then stars flash in his vision again with the back of a hand.

Not-Dino clicks his tongue disapprovingly and says, mockingly, “It's a shame, really – I thought your family had more manners than this.”

Gokudera runs his tongue over the growing bump in his lip again, this time tasting blood from where the flesh split. “You've clearly never spoken to me before, you douchebag.”

There's a short bark of laughter, and not-Dino leans in closer again, bringing with him the faint smell of leather and stale cigarette smoke. “It's a wonder that Vongola Decimo puts up with your atrocious etiquette,” he sneers, and adds, “But perhaps it isn't so strange – Sawada isn't much of a mafia boss anyway.”

It's one thing when someone insults Gokudera personally. He can handle it – he has his entire life, anyway – but this jackass' accusations against the Tenth are unacceptable. Snarling, ignoring the spittle that dribbles down his chin (or is it blood?) as his blood boils.

“You have no fucking idea what kind of a man the Tenth is, you son of a bitch! How _dare_ you insult someone you hardly know? Bastard!” Gokudera's voice is harsh with rage and frustration, and it hurts his throat in the process. But he doesn't care, because this man insulted the only person that Gokudera believes is worth giving up his own life for.

And not-Dino is grinning, which suddenly makes Gokudera feel all kinds of stupid – he's letting the man get to him, and that's not acceptable either in this kind of a situation.

“Ohoho, struck a nerve, have I? Perhaps you should introduce me to him so I can see for myself that he is worth defending.”

Gokudera grits his teeth and looks away, but stays quiet at the blatant baiting. He can't afford to slip any more than he already has. The most important thing now is that the Tenth stays safe – and at this point, Gokudera is thankful to whatever gods decided to bestow the gift of Hyper Intuition upon Tsuna, because if not-Dino figures out that Tsuna's in Italy...

_No. Not going to happen._

There's another click of not-Dino's tongue. “Not feeling so talkative now, then? Why don't we loosen that tongue of yours.”

That's all the warning Gokudera has before there's a blow across his face that's a _lot_ harder than the last time – feels like his cheekbone is going to shatter under the impact – and he's blind and his ears are ringing and feel like they're stuffed with cotton. He thinks he might have lost consciousness this time, and distantly wonders if not-Dino hit him with the brass knuckles.

It feels like only a split second before the black spots clear from his sight, and a fuzzy outline of not-Dino's face takes darkness' place. His cheek feels like someone is still pressing against it, and it throbs in time with his heartbeat – _pounding_ – as he tries to focus. The way his ears are still ringing and the fact that not-Dino sounds like he's speaking from a distance away underwater – this tells him that his earlier assessment likely wasn't too far off the mark.

When he finally catches his breath enough to groan, he can't help the hot tears pricking his eyes and momentarily hates his own body's instinctive response. _This is how it's going to be_ , he realizes as he gingerly rubs his tongue across his bleeding lip. No turning back now. It's say nothing or die a coward.

Question, silence, pain. Question, silence, pain – their conversation continues in this manner, no matter what question is asked, Gokudera keeps his tongue in check.

Question – _where is Sawada?_ – silence, pain. His nose feels like it's going to fall off.

Question – _where is the nearest Vongola estate?_ – silence, pain. He spits out a broken tooth.

 _Where are the other Guardians?_ Broken fingers. And, _Do they know you're here?_ – it's all the same question, anyway, and Gokudera doesn't understand why they're bothering to ask him still – the cost of this round of silence is a crushed toe.

Question – _what exactly is your relationship with Sawada?_ – and Gokudera doesn't understand why that matters, unless they plan to use him as bait. But they don't get that it's already in his job description, and it's not like the Tenth is going to personally come and get him. Reborn knows better than that. But he still doesn't say anything of the matter, because it won't do him any good; he's got stars blinking across his eyes now and a sore neck from his head snapping around so much, and it's on to the next question.

Several questions later, and Gokudera isn't sure he can see out of his left eye anymore – it's swollen, and his cheek feels like it's as broken as his nose is now. He doesn't even want to think about the mess his fingers have become; they hurt every fucking bit as much as he'd been told they would, if broken. Instead of feeling miserable and scared, he's just _tired_.

And all these questions – the same, all the same – begin to chip away at a defense he didn't know he had up. Question, silence and a pinprick of doubt, and then Gokudera's sure his face looks like it's been run through a meat grinder at this point. Feels like it. Each question makes that pinprick of doubt a little harsher, a little sharper, cutting deeper, and it makes him wonder what's transpiring in the Tenth's office. Now every question they ask him, he asks one for himself.

 _Do they know where you are?_ becomes, _Do they even notice you're still gone?_

 _Why did you come alone?_ is now, _Was it Reborn's intention for me to be here like this?_

 _How close are you to Sawada?_ means, _Does the Tenth even care?_

At that thought, he finally starts to panic, and he talks.

“Are we done yet? My neck's getting stiff,” he says, trying hard not to let it show in his face that he's starting to doubt even himself. His voice cracks anyway, but he thinks it's because it might be dry instead. The room's spinning out of control.

There's a pause, then a sharp blow to his gut that knocks the wind out of him. Stars sparkle around the edges of his vision.

He opens his eyes again, realizing then that he has been unconscious – and he's alone, he thinks. For the time being. Still tied to the chair, he tries to look around the room, but his abused head throbs and his bruised stomach churns and it takes all the self-control he can muster to keep himself from revisiting whatever is left in his stomach. He has a bad, bad feeling that the damage done isn't so minor, but he can't dwell on that because he knows it will become another weak spot in his carefully-constructed armor.

Not that he hasn't already shown them a weak spot – they just don't know it yet. Obviously didn't take advantage of the one opening he's given them so far, and he's not about to give them another. He hasn't followed the Tenth to hell and back to start casting doubts at the person who changed his life (for the better, he hopes).

But Gokudera still wonders if his family is even looking for him. How long has he been here now, anyway? The hours are distorted, disguised as minutes, sometimes as days – it's like a fucking game that Mukuro would play–

 _Or perhaps Reborn._ Lights go on, Dino smiles apologetically, everyone laughs and it's one big fucking joke on him for the sake of training. _Hah. Haha._

He shudders at that thought, wincing and hissing softly as the movement sends fire along his damaged nerves. The room's still dark, no shout of _surprise! Just kidding!_ But the doubt begins to grow again, and this time it's not Tsuna he's worried about; it's the fact that Reborn sent him here, alone, and that it's _Dino_ he's stuck with. His mind whirs, trying to place the puzzle pieces when he realizes one crucial detail: This really isn't Dino.

Whoever he's dealing with, that individual knows how to do something that Gokudera has only seen Mukuro pull off successfully. And then he recalls the first time they faced Mukuro – wasn't there a bullet involved? Gokudera can't remember too well, because parts of his memory of that fight are blurred with his own hands moving on their own accord, trying to steal life from the very person he tries his hardest to protect. That isn't something he likes to dwell on.

But the bullet – that part is important. If this isn't Mukuro he's dealing with, then there's someone else who knows how to use it. And if it really is Byakuran behind the strings leering down from the shadows above their own little stage, then Gokudera's entire family is in serious trouble. The future they all saw never involved contraband Possession Bullets.

Gokudera's mind is racing now, almost as much as his breath. His chest hurts, but he can't tell if it's from his injuries at this point, or if he's panicking too fucking much – he knows he is. He can't help but continue down this path, like a hunting dog on the scent of its prey. Didn't Byakuran have the ability to manipulate minds in general as well? He never was able to possess anyone, to Gokudera's knowledge (and he knew quite a bit about the Byakuran they met in the future), but if Byakuran had indeed managed to get his fingers on the Possession Bullet...

“You're awake, Gokudera Hayato.” Gokudera sucks in a startled breath, then hisses it back out as pain flares through his ribs. It's Dino's voice, but using a tone very similar to something Gokudera's heard before–

And Gokudera realizes he's on the right track.

He smiles.

“Ready to talk now?”

 _He has no fucking clue._ Gokudera's smile broadens triumphantly; he relishes the feeling even as his cracked lips begin to bleed again. If he knows who he's dealing with, he knows he's less likely to show any more weaknesses. He's been hurt worse than this before – what's the worst they could do to him?

... Perhaps he shouldn't think about that, but at any rate, Byakuran is hesitating. That much is a start in Gokudera's new plan to unnerve the bastard as much as he possibly can. Maybe he can figure out a way to get Dino to wake the fuck up and shove the intrusive son of a bitch out, because he knows that Tsuna won't like his friends being used this way.

Tsuna isn't going to like any of this, come to think of it. He snorts, and he realizes only after the fact that it sounds like a laugh, though there's no humor in the situation he's in right now.

“What's so damned funny?”

But maybe there _is_ humor here, because now he has the upper hand – screw the fact that he's tied into this fucking chair and beat all to hell and–

There's a huff of breath, all the warning Gokudera has before stars explode in his vision again. It's a familiar pain, one that Gokudera has no trouble compartmentalizing and shifting to the back of his mind. He'll save that for later, when he can afford the luxury to care.

“Hit me harder – I don' see li'l Dino-pixies flyin' 'round m'head yet,” Gokudera says, not really caring that words aren't coming out properly anymore.

Not-Dino – _Byakuran_ – answers Gokudera's request, almost a little too quickly. He's dizzy again, and knows it's probably a bad idea to be baiting someone who wouldn't hesitate to kill him should he find a good enough reason to, but he can't help himself.

“Y'wanted me to talk, didn'tcha?” Gokudera slurs. “M'talkin' now, bastard.” He pauses a second before he adds, “Fuck you.”

He swear he can hear not-Dino's teeth grinding together from where he sits, but there's only a beat of silence before a sigh, and then, “If you're not going to say anything useful, then you're not worth anything to us.”

Gokudera snorts. _No shit._ But he catches himself before he says something incredibly stupid, like, _probably_ , or anything that would tell Byakuran that he knows exactly who he's fucking with; it would be a pretty bad idea to get himself killed, because he knows something important now – something Tsuna needs to know.

He has to get out of here.

It occurs to him then that he's only been bound with rope, and not metal – it's something that can be manipulated, stretched, broken at the right tension. At this point, he's willing to sacrifice the skin on his wrists if he can just get his ring around to one of the boxes strapped to his hips–

–He still has his ring, despite the broken finger it's resting on. And the boxes, and– this means that Byakuran doesn't know about any of this just yet. _This is going to be easier than I thought._

He smirks, closes his eyes, and focuses; feels the flame without needing to see it, as it sputters to life around the ring. The training in the future has already been paying itself off. The flame's force is so strong that it already weakens the ropes around his wrists. There's a shuffle in the dark around him – _out of time, damn it_ – and he opens his eyes and pulls as hard as he can, ignoring the burning, tearing feeling at his wrists as the cords break with a loud _snap_.

Doesn't matter that there are hands reaching for his arms and shoulders. It's his turn, now.

Gokudera doesn't hesitate as he slams the ring into the first box he can reach, hoping to God that it's the skull weapon. A flash of light, a poof of smoke, and–

There's a fierce growl as sharp claws graze Gokudera's cheek.

_... Fuck._

Except that Uri's already growling, growing, and – despite the cat's angry swipes in Gokudera's direction, he realizes that the damn cat is actually trying to help him, in its own sick, twisted way. Not exactly the box he's looking for, but it'll do for the time being. He reaches down and works to free his ankles from the chair.

Uri's growl is fierce and sends a shudder down even Gokudera's spine as the cat moves its paws in front of him protectively, herding Gokudera – now free – towards what he hopes is an exit. The cat likely can see better than he can in this light, though the dying will flames are definitely improving the amount of distance he can see in the dank, dark room. He takes the time to feel for the right box this time, and shoves his ring into the opening at the top.

The familiar skull weapon wraps itself around his forearm, and he aims it in front of him at the moving shadows.

At this point, there's still a lot of smoke from the box releases hanging heavily in the air, and though the lights are dim, Gokudera can see a lot of bodies moving around as silhouettes in the smoke screen. Muttered curses float from all directions, and Gokudera has to wonder how many of them there are blocking him from his exit.

No matter, he's going to take them down on his way out. A little payback for what they've been doing to him for however long he's been here.

First things first – he's going after Byakuran, his Dino suit be damned. It'll be difficult, because Tsuna would be upset if Dino was seriously hurt, but Gokudera doesn't have a choice in this matter if he wants to survive the trip out of here. And none of the other assholes with Byakuran are true Cavallone, anyway – Gokudera didn't recognize a single face, when he was able to see them. Have to be Byakuran's, which means they're fair game in Gokudera's mind.

Except Byakuran finds him first, with a harsh blow to the back of his knees that sends him crashing to the ground. He catches himself on hands with broken fingers, and the white-hot pain that flares up his arms is almost enough to knock him out.

“Think you're so fucking smart, you brat,” Byakuran hisses in Dino's voice. “Well, you've got another thing coming if you think you're getting out of here alive at this point.”

Gokudera's trying to catch his breath, but doesn't have the opportunity when Byakuran pulls out the whip that Dino's so fond of using. The end of it strikes his back with a sharp crack, and he can't stop the pained, surprised cry from escaping his lips. Uri growls, whirling on Byakuran and taking a swipe at the man. Byakuran has the sense to avoid the claws, but the cat's massive paw still connects and sends him flying.

“Th-Thanks, Uri,” Gokudera finds himself saying automatically. The cat simply rolls a half-meowing growl back at him, and turns to look for more prey.

It takes too long for Gokudera to find his feet again, with the way his knees are shaking. The adrenaline and determination to complete the goddamned mission he's given himself – these can only do so much for his battered body; he's having trouble breathing, and his hands are on fucking _fire_. He grits his teeth and pulls out dynamite with his broken fingers anyway, because they're going to need more firepower to get out of here.

_Here goes nothing._

He hurls the bombs at the moving shadows, making sure not to hit the cat, blocking his face from the shockwave of heat that accompanies the chest-rattling _boom_ of the explosion. The brief flash of bright light illuminates the door just long enough for him to locate it – on the other side of the room – as he staggers back a few steps from the force of the blast. Taking several shaky steps in the right direction, he hopes that he'll be able to get there before anyone else can find him.

There's a metallic clang as the door flies open, and the overhead lights flicker to life, so bright to Gokudera's unadjusted eyes that he has to squint.

“Gokudera!”

That voice – he could swear that his heart stops at this moment, his chest burning from not breathing for that split second. Bright lights be damned, Gokudera's eyes fly open as he searches the room for the familiar face of his boss, and he's torn between relief and an overwhelming, giddy warm feeling bubbling in his stomach as he realizes he hasn't been forgotten–

It all fades, the moment he sees Byakuran twist Dino's mouth into a smirk from across the room. There's a raised gun in his hands–

“Tenth! Get out of here, now!”

Tsuna's eyes widen in worry and confusion, and there isn't going to be enough time, _damn it I've failed again_ , there's only one option left before he really will have to bury Tsuna–

He remembers every detail of the coffin in the future, and grits his teeth against the memory.

_No. Not this time._

He moves.

 

 

  


 

  


 

  


There's only one place Gokudera goes in his dreams, and while it's in Italy, it's never about the location, because honestly, he rather hates what he once called his homeland. Instead, it's about a room, bright with natural light let in from skylights and tall bay windows, and the baby grand piano that sits in the middle of all that light – a private stage.

His fingers brush the smooth ivory of the keys, instinct guiding them as they press and brush against the keys in a soft cadence. The piano is well-tuned, the music absorbing into and echoing perfectly off of the room's acoustic features, and he lets his mind drift, the music washing over him like cool water on a summer's day. These moments, he cherishes – there aren't many of them that aren't tainted with memories of bad cookies and poisoned sandwiches forced down his throat as a child for the sake of the art.

Instead of his father watching with an unreadable glint in his eyes, there are only a handful of other people in the room, all taking on faces of people he considers his family. The Tenth. The baseball freak. That damn woman, the stupid cow, that damn cat curled up on the armrest of the couch they're all sitting on, even his half-sister, eyes covered in goggles. These are the only people he would ever wish to play for, after all. Alive, well, safe – and it's at this point he realizes that this is just a pleasant dream, one he doesn't want to wake up from.

 _This_ , what he has in front of him – this is what he calls home. And it feels like it's been a lifetime since he's had one.

He plays on, through the first movement, and second, and on to the third, well on his way to the tenth – but it's halfway through the sixth that a hand lands on his, stopping him. He looks up in confusion, only to see the room and the piano and everything else fading – and Tsuna's face is sad as it fades.

“It's time to wake up, Gokudera,” Tsuna says, softly. His grip tightens around Gokudera's hand.

And against all of his instincts to stay and hide from the world, to cling to this dream as stubbornly as he can, there's no way he can disobey an order from the Tenth.

He gasps as his eyes fly open, wincing when the pain sinks its sadistic claws deep into his body, and frowning as it fades as quickly as it hits him. It takes a moment for him to blink at the ceiling and realize that it actually is white, not just blurry, and that he's attached to an IV with some extremely strong drugs attached. _Hospital._

 _And_ – there's still a hand gripping his.

“Thank God,” he hears Tsuna say hoarsely, and the stark relief in Tsuna's voice causes Gokudera's mind to race.

 

_Dino. Cavallone estate, a warehouse, a dank, dark room with a single light shining in his eyes. No, no; not Dino – Byakuran. Possession Bullet. Have to tell the Tenth–_

 

Gokudera tries to sit up too quickly, but his throat burns and he's choking on something and can't breathe, and _god, the pain_ – he feels more than one set of hands easing him back down, worried voices floating over his head.

“M'okay,” he mutters irritably, but it's muffled by something in his mouth. He hears a familiar – _annoying – no, not annoying_ – laugh.

“See? He'll be just fine,” the baseball freak says. “You should go sleep, Tsuna – I can take over from here.”

Gokudera doesn't have the strength to protest, though he does register several different whispered voices in the room and distantly wonders just how many people there are in that room with him. The sound of evenly-timed hissing air drowns them out, and eventually his head's throbbing so loudly that it outshouts even the hissing sounds.

The next time he wakes up, Yamamoto's reading a book as he sits in the chair next to the bed. It's a book on baseball strategy – _go figure,_ he thinks – but it's quickly set aside once Yamamoto looks up and meets his gaze.

“Hey! You're awake!”

Gokudera's nose wrinkles into as much of a snarl as he can manage. “Thanks... Captain Obvious,” he grinds out, his throat still burning.

He coughs, and Yamamoto blinks before saying, “Oh!” as he scrambles to grab a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of it.

Yamamoto looks tired, Gokudera realizes as he drinks as much of the cool water as he can handle. Too much worrying going on here. He's not dead – not gonna die now, if he's awake.

“Go home,” he says, voice still rough and hoarse.

There's a laugh, and then a serious stare. “We're still in Italy – it'd be back to a hotel room, anyway. Not like I can get around alone on my bad Italian,” Yamamoto replies, smiling.

Gokudera scowls. “Study... then.”

Yamamoto just laughs this time, and Gokudera's suddenly finding himself too tired to say something irritable in reply. He watches through half-closed eyelids as Yamamoto's smile disappears, replaced with a worried frown when he thinks Gokudera isn't watching. Yamamoto pulls out his cell phone and dials a number, speaking in soft, stern tones to whoever is on the other end of the line. Gokudera falls back asleep before he can concentrate on what Yamamoto's saying over the phone, and decides that the next time he wakes up, he's insisting on taking away the damned drugs.

The next snatch of awareness, Gokudera feels cool, soft hands smoothing his hair back from his face, and an unfamiliar voice speaking in a worried tone. There's a feminine voice replying from close by, and it takes a moment of gut-twisting instinct to realize that it's Bianchi sitting with him this time. He refuses to open his eyes this time, just in case his stomach rebels – and he slips away again.

Finally, he wakes in increments, and realizes that he doesn't hurt as much, and that there isn't a fuzzy, cottony feeling between his ears when he opens his eyes. Tsuna's there, smiling gently at him with a sad relief that only the Tenth can manage.

“Hey,” Tsuna says, voice thick. “Welcome back.”

Gokudera's lips feel too dry and swollen to smile back, but he tries anyway and gets almost halfway there. The drugs aren't as strong – the aches and pains might be less overwhelming, but they're sharper than before and linger longer – and he blinks, trying to get the whole room into focus now. Yamamoto is asleep in the chair across the room, snoring loudly, baseball book drooped over his face.

“How long?” Gokudera asks, voice still feeling a bit raspy. He clears it with a close-mouthed cough and a wince.

“Three days,” Tsuna replies, looking away. “Six, if you count how long you were held captive. We thought we were going to lose you.”

Gokudera frowns – _that long?_ – but then realizes Tsuna is scrutinizing him with a worried expression. He tries for the smile again. “Nah, can't kill me,” he says – slowly, because it's what he has the energy for. “M'fucking indestructible.”

Tsuna snorts, and it's as much laughter as Gokudera could expect from him in this situation. He'll take whatever he can get. He looks at Tsuna carefully.

“You okay?” he asks.

Tsuna nods. “... Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I'm just fine. You're the one in the hospital.”

Gokudera winces. “M'sorry, Tenth.”

“N-No!” Tsuna exclaims, waving his hands in front of his face in protest. “No, I should be the one saying sorry. If I'd been able to find you sooner–”

“It wasn't exactly easy to find,” Gokudera insists. “It's... It's not your fault – you did what you could. You came, didn't you?”

Tsuna still doesn't look too happy, but Gokudera doesn't have another chance to try to comfort him when Yamamoto startles awake, his book dropping to the floor with an unceremonious _thud_. He blinks, then looks up at Gokudera and smiles that damned goofy grin of his.

“You're back!” he says, almost too cheerfully. “Good, I'll go tell the doctor–”

Gokudera tries to stop him, but doesn't open his mouth to protest in time.

Tsuna doesn't bring up the subject again.

 

  


 

  


 

  


Gokudera brings it up later, when they're about to get off the private jet. His back and rear and legs are stiff from sitting still for so long, but he aches too much to move them around much just yet – and he refuses to let any of this show on his face as he regards Tsuna seriously.

Tsuna looks horrified at first, when Gokudera talks about what he discovered while he was being held captive. But the horror fades, to be replaced with anger, and then worry as he looks back at the visible bandages on Gokudera's hands. He resists the urge to hide them under the Boss' stare, because they're going to have to come to terms with it sooner or later. Now's as good a time as any, really.

“I wish it hadn't happened _there_ ,” Tsuna finally says, once Gokudera finishes speaking.

Gokudera blinks, at first misunderstanding what Tsuna says. “Dino's okay – that's all that matters, isn't it? I still trust him.” The look on Tsuna's face tells him he's totally missed the meaning, and his mouth forms a silent, “Oh” once he gets it.

He's quiet for a moment, staring at his hands, thinking. A breath, and, “Italy isn't exactly a home to me, Tenth,” he says after a beat. When Tsuna starts looking upset, Gokudera waves his hands to stop him and says, quickly, “A-A home is somewhere that you can go to escape the world, where you're most comfortable, right? Well... doesn't that count, when you're with the people you care the most about? Italy just isn't that place.”

Tsuna's eyes widen as he thinks about it, then he sighs with a small smile once Gokudera's words sink in. “I guess you're right about that, Gokudera,” he replies.

The air clears, and the rest of the ride seems far more comfortable, despite the physical annoyances of having a bruised and battered body on the mend. But when Tsuna turns around, Gokudera relaxes back into his seat, and falls asleep with a stupid smile on his face (he can't help it if the stupid baseball freak is rubbing off on him) as Tsuna and Yamamoto hold a quiet conversation in the seats in front of him.

Gokudera is forced into a wheelchair and still feels like a mummy when they disembark from the plane, back in Japan – _finally_ – and back to the limo that's waiting for them at the airport. Yamamoto pushes the wheelchair, and Tsuna walks ahead – goes to the limo first and opens the door, smiling back at Gokudera as he does so.

“Welcome home,” he says.

Gokudera blinks in surprise, and then smiles.

“I'm home.”

  
  
  
  
**_fin._ **


End file.
